On The Road Again
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Oneshot. What happens when two brothers end up bored in a car? This is what happens. Funny times...


**Whoa, this is like a zillion pages long- sorry, but once I get Supernatural humor stuck in my head, it's there for good.**

**Warnings: Language**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the show.**

**Summary: What happens when two brothers end up bored in a car? This is what happens.**

**_Inspired by road trip I took with my boyfriend and best friends. Heh._**

The stars shimmered in the night sky above, as a black Impala raced down the expressway at top speed. The inhabitants of the vehicle enjoyed the unusually good weather with their customary attitude.

"I would not EVER kiss Anna Nicole Smith! Not even if you paid me for it, dude!"

"Why the hell not? Sammy, when did you become such a prude? She has the biggest knockers I have ever…"

"It's Sam, butthead. Did you ever hear of oral herpes? Yeah? Because I swear to God, she has ten times worse!"

"Was that even a proper sentence, college boy?"

Sam fumed. He could never get the better of Dean in these sorts of arguments. Sure, if they were discussing nuclear fusion Sam might have a greater chance, but their present state was quickly fracturing his once-unshakeable confidence. Sam turned, yanking his seatbelt to reach the back seat of the car. He rummaged around in his duffel bag, then stopped and stared.

"Dean, have you even LOOKED into the backseat of your car, perhaps somewhere in the timeline of the last six months?"

Dean shot him a quizzical look before glancing in the rearview mirror.

"I don't see no demons poppin' out of it,"

"Yeah, except _you're_ not looking at a week-old burger rolling around under the seat,"

"Hey, now. Are you accusing me of not caring for my baby?"

"Yeah. I'm accusing you."

"I think you're gonna need a better argument than that if you're gonna be a lawyer, Sammy-boy,"

"What is it with the nicknames? Do you want me to call you—"

"Don't even say it!" Dean said, somewhat nervously, as he chanced a look at his brother's face. Sam's eyebrows were raised, and the message was clear. _Payback's a bitch, bitch._

"Dean-o," The name was thrown into the silence, and rebounded around the car until Sam finally dared to look his brother in the face. Dean's eyes were straight on the road ahead.

"You bastard,"

"Hey, if I am, you are too. Remember, we're brothers," Sam grinned, pleased with his own witty retort.

"Dude. Wipe that grin off your face. I am not even close to being done with you yet,"

"Is that a threat?"

"Remember, we sleep in the same room. And I have weapons. And a permanent marker,"

"Who's the frat-boy now, huh?"

Dean fumed. Sam gloated. And the road passed underneath the tires, the Impala purring over the concrete.

Minutes passed in silence, and Dean felt around under his seat. Sam watched, amused, as Dean contorted his body into positions that a yoga instructor would have been proud of to reach his precious tapes. Keeping his eyes on the road, Dean selected one at random and shoved it into the slot. He pressed play, and waited for the heavy metal to wash over him. As the Metallica tunes started, Dean visibly relaxed, and cracked his neck. Sam rolled his eyes. When did Dean become such a music junkie? Dean reached over with one hand and turned up the volume a notch. Without missing a beat, Sam reached over and turned it back down.

"Sammy…"

"SAM."

"_Sammy. _Don't fuck with me now, dude. I was just starting to chill. Do you really want the guy driving the car to stress?"

Sam just stared at his older brother.

"Where the hell did you get all those phrases from? "Chill"? "Stress"?"

Dean licked his lips, preparing for another amusing argument. It was funny how being stuck in a car with only your annoying geek brother for company brought out the moron in you.

Dean reached over and turned up the volume again, and said some choice phrases that Sam hadn't known the meaning of until he was eleven.

"Wow. No wonder Cassie broke up with you, if that's what you said around her,"

The car swerved as Dean fought to regain control of the entire situation.

"What the _hell,_ Sam. I think you WANT to end up in a goddam ditch tonight."

"No, it's just really funny watching you try to come up with smartass comments to throw back at me. Like, your face gets all twitchy and you blink a lot, and it's really funny,"

Dean groaned out loud.

"_Like, your face gets all twitchy, and, and…"_ Dean mocked Sam in a high, girlish voice, only to forget how his sentence ended. Dean ignored Sam practically rolling on the floorboards in laughter, and took a turn especially hard just to see Sam's face smooshed up against the window.

"Payback's a bitch, little bro,"

"Oh yeah, Dean, I'm mortally wounded. You're the bitch,"

"No, _you're _the bitch. I'm the jerk,"

Silence. This time the silence was amused, as if it were waiting for something else to happen.

Sam hadn't seen Dean so carefree in a long while, and he enjoyed it. Just out of kindness, he left the volume of Dean's music where it was.

"I think you're jealous of me," Sam said playfully, waiting for what was sure to be an interesting reaction from his brother.

Dean's head slowly swiveled in Sam's direction.

"Why did you have to come and save me from the freaky scarecrow thing? I coulda been rid of you and your retarded conversation starters for good,"

"I have better hair than you,"

The car rounded a curve so sharply that Dean had to pull the wheel at a forty-five degree angle just so he wouldn't hit the metal fence.

"What the…"

"Mine has more volume,"

"Have we gotten this bored? We're debating hair volume? Wanna go to Tresemme and have it settled once and for all?"

"See, Dean, it reflects bad on you when you actually know what Tresemme is,"

Dean's mouth moved wordlessly, as a fish on dry land. Sam grinned inwardly. He was going to win this one.

"Yeah, well, I'm cuter than you. At least, that's what all the girls say,"

"Sam, I hate to tell ya this, but I don't really think that Meg chick was a girl,"

"I wasn't talking about her. You remember Janet, from your junior year?"

Dean wasn't sure where this was going.

"Uh, I think. Redhead, huge ass?"

"Wow, no wonder the chicks love you, Casanova. Yeah, that's her. She went to homecoming with you and flirted with me at the football game,"

Dean snorted in his incredulous disbelief.

"What did I teach you about girls, Sam? They always like me better than they like you. They go more for the strong, rugged type than the science geek with glasses,"

"I didn't wear glasses,"

"That's not my point—"

"ANYWAYS. Your girlfriend flirted with me. End of story. I didn't encourage it, of course, because I'm not the slimy piece of shit you sometimes come off to be, but didn't you ever wonder why she broke up with you so soon after?"

_The little nerd's right, _Dean thought to himself.

"You flirted with my girlfriend?"

"Are you deaf? She flirted with me."

"She probably felt sorry for you," Dean grasped at straws, trying to preserve his own image of his high-school self. _Casanova, Casanova, Casanova…_

"So you're admitting that she liked me?" Sam pressed on, bravely.

"Shut up,"

"Hey, you're the one that taught me how to flirt and how to recognize signs of flirtation. She was doing the hair thing,"

Dean turned completely sideways in his seat and almost ran off the road.

"She did the hair thing?" His mouth hung open in disbelief.

"She did the hair thing. Even the whole sidle-up-to-me thing,"

"You have got to be shitting me. She did it—to you? No jocks around?"

"It was a football game, of course there were jocks around. But yes, she said my name, and I'm assuming that would be 'Sam',"

"There were a lot of Sams. That was in Oklahoma City, there was a Sam every two inches,"

Now it was Sam's turn.

"Shut up,"

"Tou-chee,"

"She was talking to me. It's not that hard to believe,"

"Yeah, okay, geek boy. I'll give in to your fantasy,"

A few moments passed, and then Sam heard a snicker.

"What?"

Dean shook his head.

"No, seriously, what?"

"You honestly believe you're cuter than me? Because of _one girl_? And you think I'm jealous of you? Man, college really warped _you_. Remind me to stay away from places of education," Dean let out another snicker, before catching the look on Sam's face. _Uh-oh._

"You had acne,"

Dean gaped in astonishment. "You swore you would never bring that up!"

Sam shrugged, a malevolent smile on his face. "Well, you bring out the bastard in me,"

Dean shook his head. But Sam wasn't finished yet. _Blackmail feels good_.

"Remember that time that Dad went to West Virginia, and we were all alone in the house? You were a senior at Duchense High in Philly,"

"I don't need a play by play. Better yet, shut your pie hole,"

Sam babbled on as Dean turned up the volume. He didn't need to hear this again. The memories were all too poignant. _Where did he learn all this blackmail shit? Oh. Right._

_I guess I'm a good teacher._

Sam's voice traveled in and out of Dean's hearing as he tried to block out what ended up being the most embarrassing night of his life.

"You were planning on it being the best party ever…too bad only like ten people showed…"

"Hey, what's that whiny, annoying sound I hear? My kid brother being an asshole—"

"Oh no, I'm not done yet, remember what happened when Dad got home? Yeah, he got home a few days too early for your liking—in fact, if I remember correctly, you kept saying that you didn't KNOW where the keg came from…"

Dean sighed. Sam grinned. And rambled on and on…and on…

An hour later, Sam was talked out. Dean's head felt as if he had hit it against his beloved automobile too many times, which wasn't true because he had only smacked into the steering wheel twice.

"You are NOT cuter than me. Just for the record, bitch," Dean clarified, only to be met with silence.

"What? Now you're too old for these games?"

"Your face," Sam pouted, looking like he lost his teddy bear.

"Oh, that's mature,"

Sam stared at Dean, earning a chuckle in return for his disbelieving look.

"Alright, here's the deal. I'm almost outta gas, so let's hit this motel thing coming up, and we can leave in the morning, okay?"

"Why not? It looks like the kind of cheap ass deal we usually get,"

"Good boy,"

Tires squealed into the parking lot of the grade-D motel stationed right next to the highway. A neon bulb in the front spluttered with prolonged pain, and Dean looked at it, wondering why they couldn't ever stop at a Best Western with mints on the damn pillows.

Dean stepped out of the car, patting his pockets down for money.

"Yo, Sammy, I need some cash,"

"Just let me get the room, my wallet's full,"

"Let you go into that crack house alone? By yourself? At night? Hell no. I ain't the idiot you paint me to be, kiddo, it's my job to…"

Sam felt his head droop from exhaustion.

"Dean. Shut up. If you're gonna come, at least don't scare away the person at the front desk with your incredible charm,"

"What, this incredible charm?" Dean smirked, spreading his arms wide in innocence. "I'll pretend I don't even own this handsome face of mine—I'll just be as humble as they come,"

Sam pushed open the door of the entrance, Dean right on his heels. The door sticking, it took Dean ramming into his younger brother to open the jammed entry.

"Graceful, bro, graceful," Dean muttered with a grin, sidestepping the stumbling Sam.

He stopped dead at the desk, looking down at what seemed to be a thing of horror. He beckoned Sam with his hand, and Sam, alert to the presence of something amiss, quickly and quietly made his way across the broken tile to his brother. There, outlined under the yellow glow of flickering flourescents, was

"An old man. Dean, it's not a demon, I swear. Can't you NOT be a jerk for ten minutes?"

"Dude!" Dean looked on, sickened by the drool that was now dripping onto what looked like professional reports.

"Excuse me, sir," Sam prodded gently. The man let out a great snore as he shifted his head. Sam shrugged, motioning at Dean to try. Dean waved his hands and shook his head, but Sam ignored him and retreated. Dean was left with no other choice. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and prodded at the air near the old man's shoulder. He wrinkled his nose at what seemed to be a very old once-white undershirt the man was wearing.

"Fashionable," he muttered to himself. He heard a loud hiss from the corner, much like a leaking valve, and he turned to see Sam gesturing at him in impatience.

"Dean!" was the hushed whisper thrown his way.

"Okay, okay. Come on, you bad boy, you," Dean grunted, poking the man's shoulder. He took a jump back as the man was brought to life, almost leaping to his feet and reaching under the counter at the same time.

"What the hell!" he roared, coming extremely close to terrifying the living daylights out of the youngest Winchester.

"Whoa!" Dean said, holding his hands up. No doubt the man was holding a shotgun in one hand—_I hate the boonies, _Dean thought.

"We just want a room for tonight, that's all!" Dean tried to calm the man down as he simultaneously tried not to look at the dried drool caking his cheek.

Sam smoothed his ruffled feathers and tried to look as innocent as possible while the desk clerk checked him out. _Yeah, we're just a couple of guys wanting a room at two in the morning, nothing fishy about that,_ he thought to himself, grinning inwardly.

"Darlene!" the man boomed, turning to the back room that blended in perfectly with the coffee-stained, dilapidated old wallpaper blanketing the entire motel. "Get some keys for room five!"

Turning back to the two boys, the man brought both hands above the counter.

"Now," he leered at them, "You gonna pay me or what?"

_Geez_, Dean thought. "Yeah, here you go,"

The man rifled greedily through the bills, eyeing each twenty hungrily. He disappeared into the back room just as a woman walked behind the counter.

_And what a woman…_was all Dean could think as he took in as much of the young lady as he could see. _Whoa…_

The brunette smiled at Dean, eyeing him as a predator would prey, and tossed a set of keys on the counter in front of him. She tossed her long, glossy locks over one shoulder, and Dean followed the curve of her body with his greedy, glassy eyes.

"Is that all for ya now?" She asked, making the innocent question seem vulgar with her sweet southern accent and drop-dead looks. She shifted her body so that her breasts were pushed up as far as they could go. Dean ogled for a second, before lifting his eyes and meeting her predatory gaze.

"Why yes ma'am, I believe we are all settled. For the night. For now," Dean tacked on as an addition.

She smiled lasciviously. "What are ya'all doing out here on a fine night like this?"

Sam cleared his throat. Dean held a hand behind his back, the middle finger raised skyward.

"Well, miss…"

"Tessie,"

"Well, Miss Tessie, we just happen to be passing through on a job,"

"Oh, how nice," she purred. Sam sighed, glancing at his watch. He knew how long it would take, so he settled himself nicely against a peeling, dirty wall. _No stopping Casanova while he's on a roll._

They exchanged flirtatious sex-talk for a few more minutes, thoroughly grossing out Sam in the process. By the end, Dean's face was right up next to hers, and they were murmuring what Sam hoped to be only pleasantries to each other.

"So," Tessie said, leaning against the counter. "Are you boys busy tonight?"

"No,"

"Yes!" was the negative from Sam, who had just about enough of his brother's idiocities. The man seemed to have disappeared from the motel, so it was up to the youngest brother to save himself from what was sure to be an incredibly boring night. What with his brother playing Sex God and all.

"I'm sorry, but we've got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow," Sam urged Dean on with a look, and a not so subtle tug at the sleeve of his leather jacket. Dean shrugged at Tessie with an I-don't-know-this-guy-pulling-at-my-sleeve kind of expression.

Tessie looked genuinely saddened for a minute, then recovered quickly. She sent a sharp glance in Sam's direction, appraising him for the time and trouble it would take to win him over. His brother really was something, but there was no way she was fighting off this young man, who seemed to be taking possession of Dean rather quickly.

"Oh," she said, eyes downcast in a pseudo-depressed expression. "Well, then, you boys have a good night,"

She abruptly exited the lobby, fleeing into the back room. Dean glared at Sam.

"What the FREAK, man? I was gonna get some tonight!"

"Yeah. Remember Anna Nicole and the oral herpes? This is a country girl in a highway motel,"

Dean weighed Sam's words. He shrugged in resignation, with a longing glance at the back room.

"Dean, she obviously didn't care that much,"

Dean sent another laser stare piercing through Sam's skin.

"Oh yeah? Watch this." Before Sam could stop him, Dean called out for Tessie. She appeared, somewhat reluctantly, this time tuning down the initial flirtation.

"Tessie, me and my brother here—" at this point Dean clapped a 'friendly' hand on Sam's shoulder—"had kind of an argument. So tell me something: which one of us do you think is cuter?"

Tessie looked at him the way a regular human would observe a rather stupid cow.

"Cuter?" She echoed slowly, her honey voice laced with inquiry.

"Yeah, you know. More devilishly handsome, more exquisitely debonnaire, more—" Sam smacked Dean on the back of the head, his cheeks flushing bright red.

Tessie looked both of them up and down, slowly and critically, actually looking at Sam for the first time. She nibbled on a finger in such concentration that Sam was tempted to tell her not to think so hard, or else she might have an aneurysm.

Dean laughed, somewhat disconcerted. "Come on, it can't take that long, can it?"

She looked at him, and said, "Well, you get the charm points, for sure, boy. But I gotta say, that this little boy right next to you here, he's got the looks to die for. Plus, his hair has more volume, and he don't look as cocky as you do. But I go for the talkers, so you're my favorite. But your friend here's classier. And Dean, what's with the popped collar? I seen them MTV boys wearin' it like that, and it don't look no good on them either. Yeah, no doubt, babe. Yo' buddy's the cutest. Hey, you asked," And with a laser stare, Tessie sashayed out of the room, heels clicking, pleased with her in-depth analysis of the two brothers.

Both brothers stood as still as statues for a minute, until a car horn blasted them to their senses.

"Holy shit," Dean muttered.

"Yeah…" Sam echoed. He followed up with another smack to Dean's head.

"What the hell!"

"That was possibly the most ridiculous situation I have ever been in! We were just psychoanalyzed by a middle school dropout!"

"Seriously! I mean, psh," Dean said worriedly, smoothing down his hair. "She thought you were the cute one,"

"No, Dean, she was right about that, but why is it that YOU always HAVE to…"

Their bickering voices echoed down the almost deserted parking lot, only broken by the occasional car passing by on the highway separated by the fence. The last remarks Dean made to Sam before they entered the building were punctuated by a whine.

"The popped collar is my thing, man! I ain't taking no hillbilly's word for it…"


End file.
